


Walking the Walk

by shireness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Emma is having none of it, F/M, beauty pageant, techie!Killian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 16:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: Emma Swan is willing to do anything to get money to fund her self-defense classes. Well, anything but this.





	Walking the Walk

As Emma Swan stands on the stage, surrounded by a crowd of perky, chattering women, all she can think is _What the hell am I doing here?_ Unfortunately, she already knows precisely what’s going on, and it’s far too late to back out.

\------

She and Henry had moved to Storybrooke, Maine, three months before. Boston had treated them well for years, but her son got into his head that small town life would be good for them. When an opportunity came up to take over as the Sheriff in Storybrooke after the previous sheriff left to take a post with the state police, Emma jumped at the chance, and here they were. Storybrooke was a quiet town, with little by way of action. Most of her days revolved around playing judge in various petty squabbles and issuing tickets for parking violations and public intoxication. Maybe filing paperwork if there was a minor car accident. It’s nice, in some ways – the townspeople looking out for her just as much as she looks after them, and the opportunity to be home for dinner most nights. But at the same time, she’s gotten used to the hustle and bustle of the city for most of the past decade, and this quiet is hard to get used to. So when she learns that there aren’t currently any self-defense classes offered in town, she jumps at the chance to fill that gap.

Thankfully, the local mayor is entirely on board with this plan (Emma doesn’t know why everyone thinks Mayor Mills is so prickly – she and Regina get along great, though that may say more about the sheriff than the mayor). And her classes are a hit, so much so that she starts doing two – one for kids, one for adults. Unfortunately, the equipment they use isn’t nearly as popular. The local middle school is very generous to donate gym space in the evenings, but their mats are in rough shape – full of holes and completely beaten down in areas. They need new ones desperately, and maybe some of those handy mat gloves boxers use to practice, as long as they’re at it. Unfortunately, when Emma brings it up, the Mayor isn’t nearly as helpful this time.

“Unfortunately, Emma, we just don’t have any town funds we can spare right now.”

“Not even in the police budget? There must be something leftover, since it’s only me there.”

“There is money in the police budget, but it’s completely tied up in regulations that say we have to put it towards a deputy or other personnel.”

“Well what about grants? Is there anything we can apply for?”

“Emma, you know as well as I do that educational programs aren’t exactly the federal government’s focus right now. If you were proposing to stage a full-blown invasion of New Hampshire, I’m sure they’d fund you, but self-defense programs for women and kids? Not so much.”

It sucks, but it’s true. So Emma resigns herself to ancient mats, until not even a week later, Regina approaches her with a proposition. Apparently, a semi-local philanthropist is staging a county-wide competition event that Regina’s been asked to be one of the judges.

“It might be your best bet, Emma. Everyone who participates is going to get $1,000 towards their cause, but first place gets $15,000, second gets $10,000, and third gets $5,000.”

Emma is immediately on board. She’ll run a footrace, or compete in trivia, or jump into a freezing lake, or whatever else, and she’ll get that money for her programs. Well, at least she’s on board until Regina mentions what the competition is.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?”

She’s not.

Which is how Emma Swan ends up entered in a charity beauty pageant. God, this had better be worth it.

\------

Standing on the stage, waiting for instructions, Emma feels like a fraud. Nearly every woman in the room seems the beauty queen type: pretty and smiling and _perky_. And if there’s one thing Emma doesn’t do, it’s perky.

Frankly, she still thinks the whole thing is weird, even if she agreed to participate. Many thanks to old Mr. Baxter for being willing to donate to their causes, but God, couldn’t he have come up with a slightly less pervy way to do it? As least the swimsuit portion was scrapped when Sister Astrid entered, competing on behalf of the local children’s home. Apparently even gross old Baxter thought it was too much to make a nun parade around half naked. But still, based off of the proposed program in her hand, she’s going to have to answer trivia about the county, give a presentation about her cause, and show off a talent. While wearing an evening gown. Which Regina has agreed to lend her, but still. She’s not sure she’ll be able actually move properly.

Until now, she’s been able to skulk in the corner, half hidden by one of the stage curtains. She thinks one of the theater staff saw her, but the woman wisely kept her mouth shut. But far too soon, her silence is interrupted.

“Can I help you lass?”

Emma can’t imagine what this man is doing here, but really, does it matter? She just wants out. “Not unless you’re the man writing the checks, thanks.”

The mysterious man chuckles. “If I was the one writing the checks, this would be much less…”

“Pervy? Dated? Sexist?”

“Aye, those’ll work. Probably more like a massive trivia contest, if I’m being honest.”

Well, she’ll give him credit, that earns a smile. “I take it – based on the fact that you’re male – you’re not one of the competitors?”

“No, I’m not,” he replies with an easy grin. “Killian Jones. I’m the technical director around here – basically, I’ll make sure all your microphones are working properly. Program the lights, if anyone decides to get fancy. Though I’ll admit, my brother and I did try to convince his wife to sign up. We could use new theater seats and I’d love to get my hands on some wireless headsets. She thought it would be a conflict of interest though, since Liam is the building manager of the theater being used. Not to mention, she’s the mayor of Ardendale, so she’s supposed to be one of the judges.”

It’s a little cute, the way he rambles, like he’s trying to be clever and just coming off nervous. Emma finally takes pity on the poor man with a smile and an extended hand. “Emma Swan. Nice to meet you.”

And really, she’d love nothing more than to keep talking with this slightly awkward (and, ok, decently hot) techie, especially since he seems notably less predisposed to squealing and jumpy-claps, but Belle catches her eye and makes a beeline for her corner. And she can’t actually ignore Belle. Emma hasn’t really made friends in Storybrooke yet, besides Regina, but Henry loves to read, so they go to the library every week. It was a little inevitable that she’d become at least friendly with the librarian.

“I thought I heard that you had registered!” chirps the sweet brunette. “You’ve got to come meet the other girls.” And with that, and a very apologetic smile sent Jones’ way, Emma is practically dragged into the stage lights.

The other ladies are nice, really. Emma even recognizes a few of them from around town. Mary Margaret is competing for school supplies and to fund the yearly school carnival; Ashley is looking to expand her daycare center; Belle, of course, is hoping to fund library programs; Ariel wants new equipment for her swim classes; Ruby is here for the animal shelter. They’re maybe not the people she’d normally hang out with – oh, who is she kidding, Emma hasn’t let herself “hang out” in years – but it won’t be torturous to spend the week with them. She had planned to try and maybe chat with Jones after the run-down of the program concluded, but he’s nowhere to be found, and she needs to collect Henry from school. Oh well; it’s not like they won’t have plenty of chances later in the week.

\------

If Emma had high hopes for productivity on day two, she is sadly disappointed, because Tuesday brings an explanation of the types of questions might be involved with trivia… and apparently, that’s it. As it turns out, part of the event’s mission statement (that Emma frankly only skimmed in an effort not to talk herself out of registering) included a very 1950’s statement about “encouraging collaboration across our great county through the bonds of feminine friendship”. Ugh. So, for the last hour and a half (mandatory, except in case of emergency), they’re expected to bond. And Emma doesn’t do bonding.

Mostly, she sticks to chatting with Ruby. The leggy brunette seems to be the only one willing to blatantly complain about the sexism of this whole spectacle, so they get along brilliantly. It doesn’t hurt that Ruby is apparently the granddaughter of the owner of Emma’s favorite diner.

“Girl, how have we never run into each other? I pick up shifts there all the time.”

It’s a true mystery.

The other girls are nice too, though. Ashley has a drier, more down to earth personality than Emma would have expected from someone who looks like they were dressed by woodland creatures in the morning, and Belle is apparently very sarcastic outside of work. All dated, sexist phrasing aside, maybe there’s something to this. Emma’s never really had a social life since Henry, too worried about making ends meet while somehow still giving Henry the world – so this female companionship, outside of a work environment, is new to her.

She likes it.

(Emma’s still reserving the right to complain, though.)

She only sees Jones briefly at the end of her two hour sentence, but he doesn’t hesitate to tease her.

“Look at you, Swan, socializing and everything!”

Of course, being Emma Swan, she can’t simply let a jab like that go, so she quickly tosses back “And look at you, Jones, still skulking in the curtains!”

He feigns offense, to Emma’s great amusement, making her let out a loud snort. Which is weird. Because Emma usually doesn’t tolerate this kind of interaction with persons of the opposite sex. So what is she doing?

Huh.

\------

Emma is running late on Wednesday.

It’s not her fault, really – she gets a call twenty minutes before she’s scheduled to leave for Ardendale, and even though it’s just another ridiculous spat between neighbors, she’s nearly forty-five minutes late. She knows they’re practicing the talent portion today, but it’s still a shock to walk in and see sweet Mary Margaret about to shoot an apple off some poor man’s head.

“What the hell is going on here?” she whispers, sliding in beside Killian and propping her feet on the back of a theater seat.

He smirks. “What’s happening, my dear Swan, is Mrs. Nolan’s husband is a far braver man than I.”

“Jesus, that’s true love, right there. Risking life and limb for a ridiculous competition.”

“And two dress rehearsals, not to mention plenty of practice besides that.”

It’s nice, sitting with Killian as he programs the lights. In between, he has ridiculous commentary on everything happening on stage.

At one point, his brother creeps in, and Emma is delighted by the contrast between the two men. Where Killian is dark and smirk-y, Liam is almost gallant, acting like some gentleman of a year long past. Frankly, Emma prefers the more casual attitude of the former. Still, it’s fun, watching them bicker about lighting color choices and how much it’s going to cost them.

“Oh please, Liam,” Killian argues. “It’s not like Baxter isn’t paying us. And we get to keep the concessions profits. Lay off it.”

Talking with the brothers is a great distraction, but far too soon, Emma has to go perform. She’s admittedly nervous about this part. Emma has plenty of talents, sure, but they’re things like telling when a suspect is lying and taking down a man twice her size – not things she can perform in front of an audience. She can’t really dance, definitely can’t sing, and forget about playing any instruments. She and Henry had decided, after some deliberation, on a series of magic tricks – something she can learn from a book that will hopefully impress people.

“It’ll be great, Mom!” Henry had said. “Plus, you can get the judges or the audience involved when you need a volunteer. It’ll wake them up after a bunch of, like, piano songs or whatever. They’ll love it!”

She tries to remember that going up to the stage. She’s gotten pretty good, but honestly, this could go either way, especially after seeing some of the other talents. But they seem to like it – Belle is certainly excited, at least, when Emma produces her card again – so maybe it’ll be ok. She just has to keep on telling herself that, and maybe she’ll eventually believe it.

Sitting back down, she can tell Killian has a plan, and sure enough, he immediately launches into a plan for the lighting for her act. “Ok, so I already have to have a fly guy on hand because Ariel wants the full red, white, and blue twinkle lights for her tap routine, so I say we bring that in, just with the white lights, close the grand drape a bit so you get the red curtains framing you, and then just some basic, soft lighting on stage and highlight what you’re doing with the spot instead. It’ll be great, very dramatic. Yeah?”

He’s so in his groove, so excited, that it’s hard to say no. And who’d want to, really, when his plan is such a good one?

Who knows, maybe she’ll pull off a great talent act after all.

\------

Thursday is supposed to be a run-through of their cause presentations. Being that it’s supposed to be another long afternoon of sitting, Emma brings lunch from Granny’s for herself and Jones.

It’s a little adorable, watching him work. He fiddles with all the dials, throwing off the contestants with his constantly fluctuating lights, and mutters to himself about God knows what. Every so often, he holds out his hand for an onion ring or grilled cheese half, muttering the whole while about _All these crumbs, Liam’s going to kill me_ (even though, after meeting the man, Emma sincerely doubts he cares nearly as much as Killian does).

The presentation goes fine, of course. This is the part she’s much more confident in than the magic tricks. Emma can talk all day about why Storybrooke needs self-defense classes, why they’re so important, break out figures and statistics if need be. Really, the only thing left to do is figure out how the hell she’s supposed to demonstrate some moves while wearing the ridiculous dress from Regina. It’s going to be so hard to choose a winner though, because each and every woman competing is clearly so passionate about their cause.

It’s fun, sitting in the theater after the run through, fulfilling their contractual mingling. Part of Emma is still bitter about that, but she’s enjoying herself enough that she’s willing to put it aside. They’re an interesting group, really – from Ariel on one end, sweet to the point of naïveté, to Ruby on the other, saucy and salacious and very focused on flirting with the stage manager.

(“Let Mulan do her job!” Killian calls at one point. Ruby, of course, rapid-fire shoots back “Only if you take her place, sweetcheeks!”)

At least, at the end of all this, each and every cause will be getting at least $1,000. That’s the only thing reassuring Emma right now, because right now, she frankly doesn’t have the heart to entirely deny any one of them the funding their causes need.

\------

Friday, they pull it all together. It’s quite busy, really, doing two full rehearsals – one in full dress, one not. Yikes.

Complicating matters, Henry has the day off for a teacher’s workshop. Normally, she’d either take him to work with her or leave him at home and check on him every few hours – with their apartment only a five minute walk from the station, she feels comfortable doing that – but today, when she has to drive halfway across the county, that’s just not an option. So Henry comes with her.

It could go poorly. It could go really poorly, a preteen shut up in a theater all day with a bunch of grown women playing beauty queens. But it doesn’t. Henry sees Belle right away, and runs off to tell her all about the latest book he’s reading. And it turns out that Mary Margaret teaches at his school. And somehow he knows Ruby? Of course, it figures that her kid is wildly more popular than she is. The nerves flare up again when they have to get down to business, but Henry happily runs off to make friends with Killian.

Of course, knowing Henry, the two turn out to get along famously. When she comes to check on them during the hour break between the first and second rehearsals, Henry and Liam are just returning with bags and bags of food.

“I hope you don’t mind, Swan,” Killian pipes up, “but the lad was getting hungry, so I sent him and Liam next door to pick up a few things.”

‘A few things’ is a bit of an understatement. It’s a true mountain of food sitting in front of her. There’s onion rings and mozzarella sticks and chicken fingers, a nearly disgusting amount of cheesy fries (“Listen, Swan, they’re the best you’ll ever taste. Trust me.”), a couple of burgers and grilled cheeses tossed in for good measure, some popcorn shrimp, a variety of shake flavors and baklava for dessert… everything a preteen could possibly want. Well, and Emma too. No one has ever accused her of having an overly sophisticated palate.

The meal is an enthusiastic affair, Henry apparently having had the best time ever hanging out with Killian, learning all about the light and sound boards, and bound and determined to fill her in on every minute of it. He’s even secured himself a tentative job for the next day.

“Killian says I can help tomorrow, if you say it’s okay, Mom! Can I? Can I? Please?”

It’s so hard to say no to Henry when he’s this excited, but she really needs to check with Killian that it’s fine first. Emma knows her kid, knows that people are prone to agreeing to offer him things they might not have otherwise just because he’s so revved up. But when she looks at Jones to confirm, he’s got a grin on his face and just shrugs in return.

“He’s proved to have an excellent instinct on the lighting cues. As long as he’s in all black tomorrow, I’d love the assistance.”

He seems sincere, and Henry is over the moon, so she sees no reason to say no. “Sure, why not? We’ll rustle something up.”

Henry whoops.

Well, that settles the matter of how she’s supposed to keep an eleven-year-old entertained during a damn beauty pageant.

\------

She’s being stupid. And she damn well knows it.

Because Emma Swan is a woman who chased down idiots who skipped bail, and then spent several years on Boston’s police force, before becoming a Sheriff. She’s used to high octane situations, not easily rattled and certainly not easily scared.

But here she is, Emma Swan, veteran of various law enforcement branches, pacing backstage in an evening gown about three steps from a panic attack.

She had been fine, really. She and Henry had treated themselves to Granny’s that morning for luck, and some of her son’s excitement had managed to rub off. Emma had even been fine on the half hour drive to the theater, laughing and joking with Henry (who was looking very sharp in a black dress shirt – Emma almost teared up thinking about how her baby is growing up). Up until the moment she stepped through the door, she was able to remember that she was walking home with a grand no matter what happened. Guaranteed. So really, the whole thing shouldn’t be a big deal.

But now, watching the other women glide around… she’s not doing well. She’s just so out of place – not this perky princess type everyone else seems to be. Regina had been very generous, and lent her a gorgeous black gown with a deep v-neck, cap sleeves, and a trumpet skirt, making Emma very much look like a high-powered CEO or hotshot lawyer at a gala. Which would normally be great. But she’s stuck in a sea of tulle and pastels, and feels like she sticks out like a sore thumb. Ruby is the only exception, but even she’s decked out in some 30s glam look in red. Really, looks should be the last thing Emma is worried about, but she can’t help it. It’s the easiest to latch onto, and seems representative of this whole mess. All the other women like being social, and acting pretty and twirly and feminine, and probably enjoy this awful performance thing they’re all about to do. Emma… well, Emma doesn’t. And it’s finally just hit her. Thus the pacing. And the panic.

She’s about to work herself into a full meltdown when she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder and whips around to see a very concerned Killian.

“Are you alright, Swan? Mulan mentioned over the headset you were in a bit of a tizzy. Henry sent me back to check you were alright.”

She shakes her head. Bless Henry and Mulan and Killian for their concern, but god, she is not alright, and she’s not sure they can help.

Jones looks like he’s tempted to pull her into a hug, but instead places a hand on each shoulder. “Now listen here closely, Swan, because what I’m about to say is very important.”

Emma obediently gives him her attention, but she doesn’t have much hope for what he’s about to say. God, she’s in dire straits if a well-meaning speech of encouragement won’t help. Instead, he looks her straight in the eyes, very seriously, and says:

“Pull it together.”

It certainly shocks her out of her panic, if nothing else. “What?”

“Pull it together, Swan. You haven’t got time to fall apart. And you know damn well already that you will wow them with your card tricks and statistics on domestic violence and sexual assault and definitely your badass moves. So pull yourself together, Swan.”

It’s ridiculous, but it works, and she manages to laugh. “Yeah? You think so?”

Killian grins right back. “Of course. I saw the rehearsals. You look even lovelier now, if I may say.” He takes a moment to scratch behind his ear, and she knows something else is coming. “And I would be honored if, after you win this whole thing, you might consider going to dinner with me. Think of it as a special prize, if you like.”

Somehow, Emma fights away the urge to blush bright red (God, is this high school?), and instead throws back an attempt at a flirty answer. “And if I don’t win? What do I get then?”

He smiles back at her, clearly relieved that she seems receptive to his asking. “Well, from what I understand, you’ll get $1,000, and I’ll even let my offer for a date stand.”

It’s so ridiculous, considering she’s a fully grown 29-year-old woman, that some pretty words from a pretty boy can make her day so much better (especially since she can see Mary Margaret practically cooing a few feet away), but it’s still true. He has to go, man the light and sound boards and start the show, but he leaves her with a soft kiss to the cheek, and she feels like she could take on the world.

\------

She doesn’t win.

Which is understandable. Ashley wins, probably because she sings like an angel and gets a nearly perfect score on the trivia before she nearly tears up talking about how much good the prize money would do to update her pre-k programs.

Emma does, however, win second runner up and its prize for $5,000, bombing the trivia but impressing everyone with her magic tricks (thank you, Henry) and the self-defense techniques that she decided, spur of the moment, to demonstrate on Regina. Apparently, judge participation is a hit. Mary Margaret takes first runner-up, very possibly because of how enormously relieved the judges were that David made it out alive.

In addition to the new sash (which she intends to burn as soon as possible), she also wins a date with a very handsome, very bashful, and very proud theater techie.

As far as consolation prizes go? She’ll take it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading - hope you enjoyed! Please, consider letting me know what you thought.


End file.
